


More Than I Should

by staymagical



Series: With My Life [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blood, Car Accident, Head Injury, M/M, Modern Royalty AU, Pre-Slash, bodyguard!merlin, modern prince!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymagical/pseuds/staymagical
Summary: (Takes place before the events in All I Want Is All I Need) The prince's motor car is hit by a lorry and Merlin realizes his worry for Arthur might be more than just professional.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All I Want Is All I Need was only supposed to be a little oneshot for the gift exchange. Look how that turned out. Can't get this damn story out of my head now so here you all go, MORE!
> 
> This was written for this week's Camelot Drabble prompt #296: Revelation

The lorry comes out of nowhere.

Merlin blinks, trying to clear his vision. The smell of burnt rubber and petrol surrounds him, the blaring of the motor car’s bashed horn filling the background. He can hear shouting far off, but he pays them no heed.

Arthur. He needs to get to the prince.

His heart seizes just at the simple thought, the blood pounding through him and setting a painful rhythm that ricochets through his head. It may be nothing more than a simple accident, Merlin knows that. But he’s been trained to anticipate and not discard any options until proven otherwise. This could very well be the first stage of a ploy to get at the prince and Merlin is not willing to gamble with Arthur’s life.

Either way, he needs to get to Arthur and he needs to get to him now.

He fumbles for the door latch and manages to find it on the third pass, throwing his door open to the street. The world shifts, twisting around him. Sharp pricks race up his palms a second later and it isn’t until he tries to take a step that he realizes he’s on the ground, on his hands and knees just outside his door. 

Oh, that can’t be good.

His head is pounding harder now and he can feel a warm tickle running down the right side of his face. Probably hit his head in the collison. Would explain the distorted equilibrium. Can’t worry about that now.

He pushes himself to his feet, stumbles a bit but manages to stay upright. Someone off to his left shouts and he looks up sharply, his hand immediately going for his weapon. But it’s just a small woman looking at him with concern, hand over her mouth, mobile device up to her ear.

Right, he should contact the other security immediately. He needs backup.

As he stumbles toward the back door of the motor car, Merlin presses the call button on his surveillance, patching him through to the other members of the royal security.

“Emrys to basecamp, motor car four has been hit. Threats, unknown. Requesting backup.”

The calm professional voice of Henry comes through his earpiece not a second later. “Copy Emrys. Dragon status?”

“Unknown,” Merlin responds to hearing Arthur’s codename. He examines the motor car for any other threats along its chassis. There doesn’t seem to be any but he’s on the opposite side of where the collision happened. Arthur is his priority. “Assessing now.”

Merlin ignores the halos in his vision, the way everything seems to tilt and move without his permission. He glances around the motor car, taking in what he can make out and willing his eyes to just focus for a brief moment so he can make sure they are not under any sort of attack. The lorry driver stumbling out of the driver’s seat seems just as shocked and distraught as the people slowly lining the street. A few rush forward to the driver’s side of the motor car, where the lorry made contact but none seem overly threatening. No one seems to be interested in who is in the cabin of the motor car and that makes Merlin relax a fraction.

But not much. He has no idea what state Arthur may be in and the thought makes his heart race all over again. 

God, if Arthur is hurt in any way, he doesn’t know how he’ll cope.

The thought catches Merlin off guard as he realizes it came from an intimate place rather than a professional one. But he pushes that realization aside to mull over later and pulls the back door open.

“Arthur?” Merlin calls, trying to keep the worry from his voice. He fails that, and he knows it. He was never really good at keeping his emotions in check. 

The cabin lights come on as Merlin opens the door and the destruction inside becomes visible. Glass shards litter the floor and the side cushions across from the small bar. The platter of meats and cheeses Arthur’s valet had laid out for him is scattered across the entire cabin.

But it’s the hunched form of Arthur on the other side of the cabin that Merlin focuses on. He sees two of him, blurred and weaving to and fro. But he also sees him look up, four blue eyes melding into two as they meet his gaze.

“M-Merlin?” Arthur’s voice is trembling slightly, making Merlin’s heart seize in panic all over again.

“Are you hurt?” Merlin asks with as much calm as he can muster. His eyes are roving over all the visible parts of Arthur, looking for any hint of blood or injuries of any kind. He can’t see anything from where he stands outside the motor car but his vision still isn’t at its best and he still can’t see Arthur’s other side.

“I don’t...I don’t think so.”

Merlin reaches toward Arthur. “Can you move?”

Arthur reaches out a hand, and Merlin can’t help but notice how much it’s shaking. His worry comes back tenfold. 

“Merlin, you’re bleeding,” Arthur says, his eyes locked onto Merlin’s hairline above his right eye.

Merlin ignores him. “Can you move?” he asks again. Now he knows the worry is evident in his tone but he can’t help it. Arthur isn’t answering him and he’s shaking and he is decisively. Not. Moving.

Arthur tears his eyes away from Merlin’s hairline and meets his pleading gaze again. “Ye-yes,” he says with a nod. Then he looks up to Merlin’s hairline again. “Merlin, your head.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin brushes off his concern even as his head gives a particularly painful throb and his vision blurs. Arthur can worry and fuss and complain all he wants once he is no longer in the metal death trap of a motor car and within Merlin’s reach. Preferably in his arms where he can protect him better.

And there it is again. 

He has no idea where these unprofessional thoughts are stemming from. He and Arthur are merely friends, nothing more, and even that much is stepping outside of protocol. He shouldn’t think about his charge in any sort of intimate context. His eighteen year old charge. And a member of the royal family to boot.

No, he can’t think of this now. Later, once he makes sure Arthur is safe and cared for, then he can dissect it and ensure any intimate feelings he may have for Arthur are banished from his mind. 

He has a job to do and he can’t let any emotional attachment he may think he feels to get in the way of that. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, another chapter. And another will come after I'm sure :)
> 
> For the Camelot Drabble #297: Longing

In the end, Merlin narrowly misses throwing up all over Arthur’s well-polished oxfords.

He tries to apologize, because that really is quite unprofessional not to mention downright foul. No member of the royal family should have to dodge their security officer’s vomit, least of all Arthur.

Merlin’s supposed to be protecting him from life-threatening projectiles, not creating them.

Arthur for his part, has the audacity to look even more concerned about Merlin’s well being which, isn’t entirely unfounded seeing as he really can’t see straight and he’s falling more than walking as they stumble over and sit on the pavement. As if he wasn’t humiliated enough, now he is the one that needs to be looked after when it should be the other way around.

Though he would take a million head injuries if it meant Arthur always walks away unscathed.

The smell of blood and petrol is just starting to make Merlin’s stomach roll again when the backup security team arrives followed quickly by the paramedics. Someone must have called 999 for their driver Frank. Merlin hadn’t gotten a good look at him but he knows the driver’s side of the car took the brunt of the impact so the chances of him walking away from this unharmed are slim.

Guilt washes over him at the thought of Frank sitting beside him in the motor car, bleeding out or worse. And Merlin ignored him in favor of checking on Arthur. The man could be worse off because of his negligence. Arthur is his top priority, everyone knows that, but Merlin still can’t help but feel guilty at doing nothing for their driver. He just hopes Frank is okay.

Merlin must have spaced out for a minute for the next thing he knows is there’s a bright light being shined in his eyes and he flinches, unprepared for the spike of pain it causes his head. There’s a red-haired paramedic kneeling in front of him, gloved fingers gently pushing bloodied dark locks away from Merlin’s hairline so he can reach the gash beneath. And god does that hurt. Merlin hisses at the touch and instinctively tries to draw away but Arthur’s arm around his back keeps him steady.

And when exactly Arthur got so close, Merlin isn’t sure. But there are people around and this is entirely inappropriate. No matter how close their friendship is behind closed doors, when in the public eye, they have to keep up a strictly professional appearance. Arthur knows that.

But it seems he doesn’t care much at the moment and Merlin is too preoccupied with not losing the rest of his stomach contents to do anything about it.

Not that he wants to. Arthur is a warm and comforting presence right now and exactly what Merlin needs. What he wants.

“He’s got a moderate concussion,” the paramedic concludes. He extracts a bundle of cotton bandages and carefully applies it to Merlin’s head. Merlin gasps at the sharp stab of pain, but otherwise tries very hard to stay silent as it’s taped in place. “We’ll take him and have him looked at just to be sure.”

Merlin nearly shakes his head but manages to stop himself before making that horrible mistake. “No, I’m not going to the hospital.”

“Sir, you’ve sustained a traumatic head injury, you need medical attention.”

“I’ll have the royal physician check me over,” Merlin assures him. Arthur’s arm tightens almost imperceptibly around Merlin and Merlin can’t help but lean a little further into him. Fuck propriety, he’s going to soak this up while he can. “Thank you, though.”

The paramedic leaves them be then though Merlin can tell he wants to insist some more. Merlin commends him for it, truly he does. The man is just doing his job.

But so is Merlin.

He’s not in any condition to be on duty, he knows that. But he’s unwilling to let Arthur out of his sight. Just the thought causes a pang of fear to shoot through him. He tells himself it’s just residual adrenaline from the accident, but deep down, he knows it’s more than that.

Damnit, how the bloody hell could he have let this happen?

“Merlin.” Arthur says, voice soft and Merlin can hear the chastising to come.

He sighs, reluctantly shrugging out of Arthur’s hold and stumbling to his feet. “Arthur, I’ll be fine.”

“You swear?” There’s skepticism in Arthur’s voice but thankfully he doesn’t push it.

“Yes, I swear,” Merlin reassures. Then because he is desperate to regain some semblance of normalcy in their relationship, he tries for a smirk and adds, “On my life.”

The joke fails spectacularly as Arthur winces.

Before anything more is said, both Merlin and Arthur are ushered away by security officers into the waiting vehicles, Arthur in one, and Merlin, temporarily out of commission, into the other. He wants to argue and insist on riding with Arthur, still reluctant to let him out of his sight. But he knows the other security officers have him covered. He just has to take comfort in the fact that the car he’s in will be right behind Arthur’s the entire way back.

After being checked over and reprimanded by Gaius and promising to remain awake for at least two more hours, Merlin is sent to his quarters with a handful of paracetamol and relieved of his post for at least a week with strict orders use the time to rest and recover. He nearly argues with the good doctor but his body is starting ache something fierce and he swears his head might explode with all the pressure building up. Rest, yes, that sounds heavenly.

Merlin makes it to his quarters somehow, downing a few paracetamol and barely remembering to shuck his uniform before he falls onto the bed. Never has his mattress felt so soft and inviting. Merlin can feel himself falling asleep before he can remember Gaius specifically ordered him not to.

A soft knock rouses Merlin from the brink of unconsciousness. “Enter,” he bids, voice only slightly hoarse. With a herculean effort, he forces himself to sit up into a more decent position, his head only giving an annoyed throb at the movement. It’s only once the door is opening that he realizes he’s not exactly decent anyway in nothing but his pants.

And of course it’s Arthur who enters his room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my submission for the Camelot Drabble prompt #298: Cure
> 
> Definitely a bit of a stretch for "cure" but hey, it kinda works. Sorry, this bit is un-betaed so if you see any mistakes, shout out and I'll fix 'em. Thank guys and enjoy!

They’ve seen each other in much less, Merlin knows this—a certain unforgettable trip to Paris comes to mind first. But after his realization earlier in the day, it feels different now. More indecent, more…improper. Merlin has never been one to care about propriety and decorum but right now, he’s acutely aware of it. 

He pulls the comforter up around his shoulders in a vain attempt to salvage his modesty. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d keep you company during your forced insomnia.” Arthur walks further into the room, footsteps muffled by the carpet, the dim moonlight streaming in through Merlin’s window throwing his features into sharp relief. He takes in Merlin’s state of undress and the comforter and smirks. “By the looks of it, you need it.” 

Arthur’s dressed in a simple dark red t-shirt and grey sweats, a rare sight for the prince. Merlin is one of the few who ever gets a glimpse of him like this, casual, relaxed. Himself. It’s his favorite side of Arthur. The real Arthur. 

Merlin groans as he flops back on the bed and curls up. “I just want to sleep.”

“And you can.” Arthur says. The bed shifts and dips and then there’s a warm brush of skin against Merlin’s back as Arthur lays down beside him before it withdraws. Merlin stifles a shiver at the proximity. “In an hour and a half.”

“What are you, my babysitter?” Merlin mumbles into the pillow.

There’s a smirk in Arthur’s voice as he says, “No, that’s your job.” 

“Piss off, I’m on leave.”

There’s a pause, silence falling between them. Arthur’s steady even breaths fill the room. An owl hoots outside, muffled through the thick glass. Merlin remains curled on his side, his back to Arthur, so close yet so far. He allows himself a brief moment of longing, wishing for Arthur to move closer, for his arms to wrap around him and lull him into the warmth of sleep. Then he pushes the thought away. 

“For how long this time?” Arthur finally asks, his voice softer, trying for an air of nonchalance. He misses the mark spectacularly, sounding more concerned than anything.

Merlin sighs, sinking further into the mattress and a step closer to unconsciousness. “Just a week. Gaius wants to make sure there is no lasting damage.”

“Too late for that,” Arthur teases. “You’re already mental.”

“Have to be to look after your sorry ass.” 

The bed shifts under Arthur’s weight as he moves, his arm just brushing against Merlin’s back. The spot becomes a warm beacon, a shining light in the sea of growing black. “I’m a delight,” he counters and Merlin can imagine him straightening up, that high and mighty look on his face that screams prat. 

“Yes and so is liverwurst,” Merlin murmurs. His thoughts are scattering, the waking world fading, leaving behind nothing but that warm line on his back that is Arthur.

“Some people think so.”

“Yeah, some people.” His words are a mumbled mess as sleep envelopes him.

That spot on his back turns into a warm hand on his shoulder, shaking him into wakefulness. His eyelids feel heavy as he peels them back.

“Hey, no you don’t. No falling asleep.” If Merlin didn’t know any better he would say there was a touch of fear in Arthur’s tone. But he brushes it away as his muddled brain playing tricks on him and resolutely closes his eyes again with a groan.

“Seriously, Arthur, I’m fine.” He waves Arthur’s hand away as though he’s annoyed but really all he wants is to grab on and pull him closer.

Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought. 

A little over two years he’s been under Arthur’s employment. Two years shadowing Arthur as he parades around the country, going to this event and that ball, talking with celebrities and dignitaries, signing papers and kissing babies. The works. They had grown closer over the years, very close. Merlin had ignored the signs and denied his evolving feelings, telling himself it was nothing more than the job and their friendship playing tricks on him.

He really couldn’t dismiss it anymore.

Arthur answers, sounding exasperated and concerned and completely unaware of war raging inside Merlin. “You hit your head so hard you threw up and could barely walk. I wouldn’t count that as fine.”

Merlin sighs, pulling the comforter tighter around his body and snuggling in. “Nothing a bit of sleep can’t cure.”

“Not yet, it won’t.” Arthur’s hand is back, giving Merlin a quick shake to wake him up further. It works, unfortunately but Merlin is nothing if not stubborn. He refuses to open his eyes.

God, he just wants to sleep. Maybe everything will be right in the morning and this will all have been some bad—wonderful?—dream and Merlin can go back to studiously ignoring he has feelings for his charge and Arthur can go back to being the prince of prats.

“You worried about me?” Merlin teases, fishing for banter.

There’s another pause, silence settling over the room for a moment. Merlin nearly turns over to see if perhaps it’s Arthur who has fallen asleep but the silence is broken not a second later.

“Yes.” The word is a whisper, barely audible even in the quiet room. But Merlin hears the admission in Arthur’s tone, the underlying message and before he can stop himself, he turns his head to look over his shoulder at Arthur.

Arthur’s lying on his back, hands clasped over his stomach, hair sticking up in a blonde fan where he lies against the pillow. White soft moonlight is playing off the golden tufts, giving his head a glowing halo and twinkling off his blue eyes. The sight  doesn’t help Merlin in the trying-to-ignore-you-might-be-a-bit-in-love-with-your-charge department.

Yes, definitely hit his head too hard.

“I’m always worried about you,” Arthur says, eyes fixed on the ceiling above. “I don’t mean to be and I know it’s your job but—,” he sighs, his features softening, bare and open. “I can’t help it.”

Merlin speaks before he can fully comprehend what he’s about to say. “I worry about you too.”

He’s absolutely certain now that he has brain damage.

Admitting his feelings, breaking down that carefully constructed wall of ignorant friendship between him and Arthur, that’s something that can’t be rebuilt. He’s fully aware that Arthur has a taste for men, he’s one of if not the only person Arthur has told so far. And to put Arthur at ease, Merlin had come out as bisexual to him. But none of that means that Arthur feels anything but friendship toward him. Admitting his feelings now could very well ruin their friendship and Merlin’s career. No matter how Arthur might respond. It would add strain and weight to Merlin’s job and could jeopardize Arthur’s life.

But if Arthur is admitting his own feelings, Merlin knows he can’t lie to him. He won’t. He couldn’t live with himself if he did. He couldn’t remain by Arthur’s side, as his friend.

Arthur chuckles with a shake of his head. “It’s not the same.”

The message is clear enough. Merlin turns his body to face Arthur. 

“Are you sure?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin knows if he doesn't say something now, he will regret it for the rest of his life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Camelot-Drabble prompt #309: song prompt - Photograph
> 
> This is the last chapter for this part of the series. More (hopefully) to come in the With My Life series in general, that is whenever they come to me :)

There’s a long pause as Arthur glances over at Merlin, studying him, gauging his meaning. Merlin meets his gaze and holds it. Half of him is screaming that he should pull back, laugh it off and retreat back to a safe distance. The other half wants this more than anything he has ever wanted before in his life.

It’s the latter half that keeps him still, his eyes never straying from Arthur’s.

Arthur looks away, staring up at the ceiling again. “I like you, Merlin. More,” he sighs, a heavy weighted exhale of breath. His eyes slip closed. “More than I should. More than you know.”

“Then tell me.” It comes out before Merlin can really think about what he’s saying. But he stops himself from taking it back, curiosity getting the better of him.

Arthur chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. “So you can take the piss? Not a chance.”

Merlin’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. Perhaps both just for Arthur’s lack of attentiveness at this moment. “I knew you were a bit thick but even you can’t be that thick.”

Arthur turns to look at Merlin, eyebrows raised, half pompous, half questioning. “What?” He shifts, turning toward Merlin slightly.

With a groan, Merlin rolls onto his back. The blank white ceiling with its simple crown molding fills his view. His head gives a painful throb at the movement. “God, Arthur. I don’t,” he closes his eyes with a sigh and opens his heart. “I don’t want to ruin what we already have. But I’ll regret it if I let this go.”

“Ruin what? What are you on about?” The bed shifts as Arthur moves beside him. Merlin imagines he turns toward him, curiosity piqued. But he keeps his eyes closed, revealing in the relief it allows his aching head and the fantasy his mind conjours.

A spark of frustration burns through Merlin and he turns his head sharply, ignoring the pain that follows. “Seriously? Arthur, I’m a bit in love with you.”

He doesn’t mean to be so honest with Arthur. He shouldn’t be, propriety and all that nonsense. Arthur is his charge, the one he has sworn to protect and serve. There’s a line he shouldn’t cross, one that he shouldn’t even entertain or speak of.

And he’s just jumped clear across it and danced on the other side.

Arthur is frozen, one arm propping him up on the bed, body half turned toward Merlin. His blue eyes are fixed on Merlin’s face as though he just grew a pair of antlers. It would be comical in any other situation but Merlin’s too busy trying not panic about having just confessed his love to the one person who could make or break him. In more ways than one.

“You’re what?” Arthur breathes.

Merlin looks away, a heat creeping up his neck and face. Too late to back out now, might as well run with it. “I’ve been trying to deny it for a while now but I just—”

“You love me?” Arthur whispers, the words just loud enough to cut off Merlin’s long-winded explanation. He’s yet to move a muscle, his face unchanging, eyes still locked on Merlin across the little space between them on the bed.

“Um,” Merlin frowns unsure if or where he went wrong. Arthur is strangely hard to read at this most pivotal moment. “Yes?” he finishes with a sheepish smile.

Arthur stares at him for a beat longer before his face morphs into one of anger. “You can’t just come out and say that?!” he shouts, an arm thrown wide, gesticulating his outrage.

“Sorry. I thought we were pouring out our hearts here,” Merlin says with a raise of his eyebrow. He’s not sure why Arthur is angry, but he can tell it’s more based in shock than malice. Still, he doesn’t want to hurt Arthur, if that’s indeed what this is doing. So with a helpless shrug he adds, “I’ll retract if you want me to but it’s a bit out there now.”

“No!” Arthur shouts as he jumps forward across the bed, hand moving toward Merlin as though he can physically stop Merlin’s words. Merlin’s heart nearly skips a beat at the desperation in his voice. As though losing Merlin’s love is the last thing Arthur wants.

Hope blooms in Merlin’s chest and he doesn’t dare breathe, watching, waiting for Arthur’s next words.

Arthur sighs, his body slumping as he shakes his head with a small smile. “And you say I’m thick.”

Before Merlin can speak up in his own defense, Arthur closes the space between them and draws Merlin into a deep kiss. His lips are chapped but warm and supple against Merlin’s own. It’s not a perfect kiss and Merlin couldn’t care in least. His heart soars just as the mere proximity of Arthur, of the heat radiating off him and the soft brush of skin and pressing lips. Merlin kisses him back with no resistance, mimicking the eager desperation that Arthur pours forth, parting his lips when Arthur’s tongue begs entry.

From there, the kiss turns filthy, with hands roaming across bare skin and through silken hair and Merlin gets lost somewhere in between. He only manages to come back to himself when he feels Arthur’s hands at the waistband of his pants. Reluctantly he breaks the kiss.

“Arthur,” he breathes, glancing up at Arthur above him and gently laying a hand over Arthur’s wandering ones and moving them away. “Not tonight.”

“What?” The disappointment in Arthur’s eyes immediately makes Merlin want to take back his words. But his eyes glance up to Merlin’s head and understanding floods Arthur’s face. He sits back on his heels still straddling Merlin’s torso and looks contrite. “Oh, shit. Sorry, I forgot.”

It takes Merlin a beat to realize Arthur is referring to his concussion. “No, it’s not that,” Merlin assures him, taking his hand and rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “I’m fine, truly.”

Arthur frowns down at him and Merlin can see the moment he comes to another, much worse assumption as his face completely shuts off. “Oh.”

He moves to extract himself from Merlin, trying to hide the pain in his eyes and the hurt lines of his body. But Merlin tightens his hold on Arthur’s hand and pulls him back before he can get far.

“No, Jesus Arthur,” Merlin huffs, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He knows exactly where Arthur’s mind went and can’t believe he would think so little of him especially after Merlin’s confession not a few minutes ago. “I’m not leading you on. I would never do that. I promise you, I’m very much in love with you.”

Arthur is all golden hair and soft skin, his eyes shining in the dim light of the room. “How can I not be,” Merlin whispers more to himself than to Arthur. He runs a hand down Arthur’s arm, soothing the hurt he feels there with touch and words. “But we have time, there’s no need to rush. Later, I promise if you still want to.”

In all honesty, Merlin’s body is begging to go all the way, right now. But his conscience won’t let him. He wants to give Arthur enough time to back out, to take back his words. To take back his heart. He wants him to have an out without making him feel obligated because he lost something along the way.

Arthur groans and flops back on the bed, hand thrown over his face. “You’re a tease,” he says gesturing to Merlin’s current undressed and very much flushed state.

Merlin chuckles, grabbing the corner of the discarded comforter and throwing it over himself once more. “Hey, you’re the one who came barging into my room.”

“You invited me in.”

“I’m not in my right mind,” Merlin countered, tapping the side of his bandaged head with a finger. “I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Arthur shot Merlin a cheeky smile as he gave him once over. “Apparently.”

Merlin also couldn’t be held accountable for the pillow to Arthur's face.


End file.
